


Remain in Light

by dracoqueen22



Series: This Calamitous Life [8]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M, Pre and Post War, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 11:11:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10216688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: The spaces in between the lines, where the little stories reside. A collection of ficlets featuring Megatron and Sunstreaker throughout the course of This Calamitous Life. May contain spoilers for the whole series.





	1. A Swing and A Swagger

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title inspired by MTMTE, just as the series title. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunstreaker licked his lips, his optics brightening as they always did when Megatron called him ‘sir.’

It was quickly becoming one of their favorite games, often swapping roles depending on who struck the mood first.

Tonight it was Sunstreaker. He’d walked in with a smirk and a swagger and Megatron knew exactly what he wanted.

Fortunately, they both had the time and energy to spare for a little indulgence. Why not make the most of it?

“Welcome home, sir,” Megatron said with a rolling purr that barely counted as deferential. “What can I do for you?”

Sunstreaker licked his lips, his optics brightening as they always did when Megatron called him ‘sir.’ Had an authority kink, his one-time mentor did.

Sunstreaker crooked a finger. “You can come here, recruit,” he said, pointing to the floor at his pedes. “Seems to me you’re needing a lesson in obedience.”

Megatron’s engine rumbled. “I’ve done my best to behave,” he said, the cheesy lines making the role all the more fun.

“Nothing wrong with a performance evaluation at times like this. Come now.” Sunstreaker’s grin turned devilish. “Hands and knees, soldier. You gotta earn the right to walk.”

Primus.

Megatron swallowed a moan. He lowered himself down, ever so slowly, folding his newly enlargened frame toward the floor.

He wondered if that was the draw. If Sunstreaker felt powerful with a mech so much bigger than him scrambling to obey.

Megatron’s mouth watered. There was nothing like the effortless command in Sunstreaker’s tone. It drizzled straight to his spark and lit up his lines with lust.

“Yes, sir,” he murmured, his field ripe with anticipation.

Tonight was going to be _fun._

 


	2. Claim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mine, Sunstreaker thought, fierce and volcanic, tasting energon as he bit at Megatron’s lips.

Megatron was bigger than him, but that wouldn’t stop Sunstreaker from fragging him against the wall. Not with battlelust crawling through his lines, the taste of energon in the air, and the roar of the crowd still echoing in his audials and victory like overcharge on his glossa.

Sunstreaker snarled and hiked Megatron’s leg up higher as he plunged into Megatron’s valve. He bit into Megatron’s intake, breathing in the scent of him.

That was a close one. Too close.

“Primus, I love your valve,” he growled as his talons sank into Megatron’s hip, drawing energon. Calipers squeezed and rippled around him as if thirsty for his spike.

Megatron moaned as his back scraped against the wall, leaving streaks in the rust-hewn metal. His weight was precariously braced on one foot, and he kept sinking down as a result, forcing Sunstreaker deeper into him.

“Is that… supposed to be romantic?” Megatron grunted as he grasped at Sunstreaker’s shoulders, fingers sliding over dents Sunstreaker’s opponent had left behind. He was leaking somewhere, too, and every inch of him ached. One of his joints sparked.

But this – Megatron, hot and hungry and fragging gorgeous – was far more important than the arena medic.

“Call it what you want,” Sunstreaker growled as he lifted his helm and looked into Megatron’s optics. “So long as you know you’re _mine_.” Possessiveness surged up inside of him, his hips snapping harder, metal clanging against metal.

Megatron’s optics flashed. His leg pressed in on Sunstreaker’ hip before his mouth crashed over Sunstreaker’s, the kiss as much of a claim as Sunstreaker's words. His lips were bruising, their denta clashing together.

Sunstreaker moaned and ground deep, riding hard on Megatron’s ceiling node.

 _Mine_ , he thought, fierce and volcanic, tasting energon as he bit at Megatron’s lips.

And wasn’t anyone going to take Megatron away from him. Not the Senate. Not the shiny nobles and their shinier vaults. Not the suicidal Pit boss who thought he could give Sunstreaker a guaranteed loss-match. Not Soundwave and his whispers of loyalty. Not even Sunstreaker’s Primus-bedamned Twin.

Megatron was _his_.

  



	3. Aphrodisiac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron wasn’t opposed to Sunstreaker writhing against him, but the current circumstances were far from ideal.

The moment Sunstreaker stumbled, Megatron knew something was wrong. Sunstreaker did not stumble, especially not when hardly injured.

“Spinout?” Megatron was careful to use Sunstreaker’s stage name. They were both wanted mechs right now, which had necessitated both paint and name changes. “Are you--”

“Fine.” Sunstreaker’s optics were bright, his vents roaring, but nevertheless, he looked directly at Megatron, though also right through him. “And so are you.”

“Err. What?” Megatron cycled his optics as Sunstreaker lurched toward him, barely damaged save for several slash marks in his armor. His opponent this time around had been a joke. Sunstreaker had spent most of the past ten minutes toying with the mech.

Sunstreaker smirked and all but stumbled against Megatron’s chestplate. He reached up, grabbed Megatron’s head with both hands, and yanked him down into a hungry kiss, his glossa immediately plunging past Megatron’s lips.

Megatron made a muffled sound, his hands going to Sunstreaker’s hips, his spark whirling.

“Mmm.” Sunstreaker hummed against his mouth, lips open and ex-vents scorching. “Frag me,” he purred as their frames clashed together.

Megatron’s orbital ridges drew down. “I have no problems with that,” he said honestly. “As soon as we get back to our suite.” Also known as the tiny room that barely fit them.

“No. _Now_.” Sunstreaker growled and bit Megatron’s bottom lip. His optics flashed as he hooked an arm around Megatron’s neck and curled a leg around Megatron’s hip, grinding against his groin.

Megatron startled. He would have staggered backward, save Sunstreaker’s weight on him kept him in place. “We’re in public!” he hissed.

“So?” Sunstreaker’s panel opened with an audible click, and he rolled his wet valve over Megatron’s armor. “Nnnn, Primus, Meta. Frag me hard. Against the wall,” he slurred, sounding as though he’d been binging on engex again.

But he hadn’t. Megatron had been watching his intake carefully. Sunstreaker had only been consuming low-grade, and when they could spare it, mid-grade.

“Have you lost your mind?” Megatron demanded.

Sunstreaker just moaned and ground against him again. He buried his face in Megatron’s intake, lips and denta nipping at the delicate cables there.

Someone behind Megatron snickered. He couldn’t turn to look, but his peripheral vision caught sight of Barricade, a fellow gladiator and the shifty sort. He was like Sunstreaker, one of the nimbler, more agile types, relying on his flails more often than not.

“Don’t ya know?” Barricade said as he rolled by on wheeled feet also not unlike Sunstreaker’s. “Toxen coats his claws in Skuxxoid venom.”

Toxen being Sunstreaker’s prior opponent.

“So?” Megatron asked as one of Sunstreaker’s hands tried to slip into his seams and Megatron caught him about the wrist. Now was not the time.

Raspy laughter echoed from Megatron’s left, opposite of Barricade. Motormouth, of course. Never one without the other.

“Means the only thing your partner needs is exactly what he’s asking for,” Motormouth said as he licked his lips, his visor bright and hungry. He watched Sunstreaker writhing against Megatron with a look that Megatron did not like.

“Or a shot from a medic,” Barricade added with a clicking-clunk of him checking his flails for combat-readiness. His match was next after all. “But who has the creds for that?”

“If ya don’t want him, I’ll play with him,” Motormouth said slyly, and he reached for Sunstreaker, his engine revving.

Megatron growled and slung an arm around Sunstreaker’s chassis, hauling his partner against his chestplate as he stepped back. “Frag off!”

Barricade and Motormouth laughed in eerie unison. “So the rumors are true,” Barricade purred, winking half of his quadruple optics. “Pity.”

The ready bell donged then, mercifully, calling the two gladiators away. Leaving Megatron with an amorous, lustful Sunstreaker. One who was whining piteously now and humping Megatron’s hip like a starving buymech.

Megatron sighed.

Sunstreaker moaned. “Please,” he said, nuzzling into Megatron’s intake. “Hurts.”

Megatron cupped his helm and cycled a ventilation. They couldn’t afford a medic. Not after having to start from the bottom all over again. And especially not a Pit medic.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised, his spark clenching. When Sunstreaker came back to himself, he was going to be furious. “But in our room.”

Sunstreaker shuddered and pressed harder against him, lubricant dripping freely now, soaking Megatron’s armor. “Please,” he whimpered.

Megatron’s spark sank. Yes, Sunstreaker was going to be furious indeed. He hated weakness: admitting it, displaying it, holding it. And the desperation in his field, in his gaze, was all the things Sunstreaker loathed.

For now, however, Megatron would do what he could to ease the pain.

He scooped Sunstreaker into his arms and hurried back to their private room. He couldn’t linger and wait for their manager to hand over Sunstreaker’s winnings. Sunstreaker was already hot in his arms, thrashing around, his vents roaring and his plating gapped. He needed relief and he needed it now.

Megatron had promised to look after him. He didn’t intend to go back on his word now.

**Author's Note:**

> Gonna mark this as complete for now, but if I get any more drablet ideas, I'll add them onto here. Thanks for reading!


End file.
